Delia
by Kouklara
Summary: Delia Ketchum never realised she was unhappy with her life. Then she recieved a telephone call from an eleven year old girl, telling her that her son was dying in hospital. Written before English DP names came out. Oneshot.


delia

She had finished the ironing and washing up; everything was so clean there was no point in dusting or sweeping or mopping. Dinner had been finished hours ago and it was only nine o'clock.

Delia hovered in the hallway dithering for a minute, unsure what there was left to do. That was the problem with living alone, she thought sourly; there was never anyone to clean up after. She was a mother, and even if her son didn't live with her, she had to feel busy. She sighed and walked into Ash's old room. It was just as it had always been, except now it was tidy, because he wasn't here to mess it up. She had always been mad at him for making so much mess, but without him turning the house into a pigsty, there was no reason for her to clean it. She had no real hobbies or leisure; Ash was her life. Mending his clothes, cooking his dinner, even cleaning up after him; they were her favourite things to do. No hobbies.

Delia was an unremarkable woman; arguably, she was pretty all the same. She had brown hair fastened back in a bouncy ponytail, and keen brown eyes that were always flitting around, looking for more to do. She was neither willowy nor stout, neither pale nor dark; in truth, she was fairly nondescript in everything. She had the kindly, patient look of a very good mother.

She sat down on Ash's old bed and looked around, wishing he was still here to find her barging into his room.

"Mum!" he'd roar. "I'm not a kid any more! You can't just come barging in here!"

Or would he? That was the problem, Delia thought pensively; she barely even knew what he was like now. Since he'd left home five years ago - five years! It felt like five minutes - she didn't know how he'd changed. Was he just like all the other fifteen-year-olds out there? Or was he still that same little boy who'd stayed up too late watching TV and playing with his toys; overslept; ran down to Professor Oak's lab in his pyjamas?

Well, thought Delia with a rush of affection for her son, he'd always be that same little kid to her. He'd always be her little boy; the over-confident, always hungry, maybe even a little cocky ten-year-old who had made her life fun over the ten years he lived with her.

But then he'd left!

At first, Delia had her doubts; even now, she couldn't help herself being slightly neurotic about him. How safe could it be? A ten-year-old traveling forests and roads, with no company except some little animals with special powers! Of course, there was Brock, and that nice little girl Misty, or whoever he was traveling with nowadays - Brock, she thought, he'd always traveled with Ash, and there was another girl, with dark hair - was Hilary her name? No, no - Hikari! But still, they were only kids, and she didn't feel safe. When Ash had first left, she had been obsessively frightened of Team Rocket, and what they would do to her son. When she'd heard of the rampant, ruthless criminals, or so they were thought of as, she had been mortified. "My baby!" she'd whimpered. "He can't be out there by himself with people like the Rockets around!" She had wanted him brought back home immediately. But Team Rocket had proved to be a bunch of pathetic clowns; they were abysmally bad at being criminals. Even so, Delia wished she could be there to watch over him.

Yes, Delia had her doubts.

But she knew Ash was okay. She couldn't stop herself being paranoid, it was a motherly instinct; but she knew he was okay and that was all she needed to be able to sleep at night.

She was proud of him. She really was. He had lived his dream, lived life to the fullest, been everything he wanted to be. He was happy and that made Delia happy, even if she couldn't be there to share it with him, even if he only ever came home once a year, for about one night; even if his dream pushed her out of the picture. She would always be back at Pallet Town, rooting for him, loving him, fiercely, with every single ounce of her being, feeling proud of him. Even if he forgot about her while he was out becoming a Pokémon Master, even if he never came home again, she would always be proud of him, and she would always be happy - beyond happy - if he was happy.

Perhaps it wasn't best for her, to be by herself, to have her son leave at such an early age, and it probably wasn't best for him either. But it was what he wanted, so she would accept it and support him as much as possible.

Delia yawned and stood up; Ash wouldn't want her in here. She exited the room and closed the door; checked the time; it was ten pm. Well, since she had nothing to do, she might as well go to bed. "G'night, Mimey," she said to her helper, Mr Mime.

"Mime!" he replied with his usual zeal, as if he had just asked her to do a job, and gave a respectful bow before finding somewhere to sleep.

Delia smiled drowsily and got into a night-dress, then slid into bed. She looked at the photo on her bedside table; her and her little Ashy boy, herself ruffling his messy black hair, him beaming out of the photograph and waving furiously at the camera. Delia lifted the photo and gazed at it for a minute. "Good night, Ashy boy," she whispered, then put it back down and closed her eyes.

------------

Delia woke as suddenly as if she'd been slapped. She lay in bed, eyes wide open. It was a moment before she realised the telephone was ringing and that was what had woken her. She stood up blearily, yawned and rubbed her eyes and reached for the receiver. "Delia Ketchum speaking," she mumbled. "How can I help you?"

She wandered out into the living room and checked the time. It was two in the morning. Who in the world would call at this time?

"Hi, Ms Ketchum, it's me."

Delia was confused. "If you don't mind my asking, who's 'me'?"

"Oh, sorry. Hikari, I meant."

"Oh, hello, dear. Is there an emergency?"

Hikari's voice was oddly flat and quiet as she replied, "Yes. Can you please get here right away?"

Delia began to panic. "Hikari, tell me what happened!"

"I don't think you want to know, Ms Ketchum," said Hikari blandly. There was definitely something wrong with her voice; it was low and unemotional, not what Delia expected an eleven-year-old to sound like at all. "It wasn't very...pleasant."

Delia's heart beat faster; her voice rose in pitch. "Tell me, Hikari!"

There was a long silence. Then Hikari said slowly, "Misty, Brock, May and Max are here already. Please get here now, Ms Ketchum." She gave Delia the address.

"Hikari, wait -"

"Please don't let Ash down, Delia." Then the phone cut off. Now Delia knew what was wrong with Hikari's voice. It was the voice of somebody who had recently been crying. She sat down slowly, clutching the phone so hard her knuckles turned white.

_Please don't let Ash down, Delia._

What had the girl meant by that? It was obviously very serious.

Delia put down the receiver and then hastily picked it up again.

"Samuel? Yes, it's Delia. Sorry for waking you, but I need your help..."

----------

"I'm sure he's fine, Delia," said Samuel Oak reassuringly, patting her on the shoulder as the helicopter roared over Hoenn and drew closer to Shinou. "What's the worst that could have happened?"

Delia Ketchum turned white and began to tremble. Samuel realised it wasn't the most tactful thing he could have said. "Delia, it'll be okay."

"She said it was an emergency."

"They're your words, not hers."

"She said not to let Ash down."

"It could be good news!"

"What kind of person rings up their friend's mother at two in the morning and makes them fly five regions over just to tell them good news?"

Samuel frowned. "It could be extremely good news. Mind-bogglingly good news. Such good news you just had to hear it in person at three in the morning five regions away from home."

Delia sighed and smiled ruefully. "Thank you for everything, Samuel. I appreciate it."

He squeezed her hand. "It'll be okay, Delia, you'll see."

"I hope you're right," she replied as the helicopter landed outside a Pokémon Centre. The two of them stepped out onto the dark ground and met Brock. "Hi, Ms Ketchum. Professor Oak." His voice was also a little flat and emotionless, like Hikari's.

"Call me Delia, dear," said Delia. "What happened to Ash?"

Brock opened his mouth, hesitated, as if not sure how to phrase what he was about to say, then closed it again and seemed to decide not to answer her question. Delia felt a surge of frustration. It was the same thing as before; the reluctance to tell her anything about her son. She had been pushed out of his life. She was no longer his mother, just a woman who he visited sometimes, who cooked and cleaned for him, who had no business asking about his wellbeing. Or at least, that's how his friends saw her.

"Come on," said Brock evasively, leading her into the Pokémon Centre. Then, deciding, it seemed, that Delia and Samuel deserved just a little more information, he said blandly though cryptically, "There's no hospital in this town. That's why we're here."

"Hospital?" echoed Delia and Samuel. Delia felt a dreadful sense of foreboding.

"It's just through here," said Brock, as if neither of them had spoken. He led them through a hallway and knocked on a door.

"Pika!" came a small voice from the inside. It opened a crack and one blue eye looked out.

"Hi, Ms Ketchum," said May's voice, and hers lacked the blandness of Brock's and Hikari's; it was trembling with emotion, "...Professor Oak. Come in."

She opened the door wider and the three of them stepped through. "Ash!" cried Delia suddenly.

---------

"How did it happen?" asked Samuel quietly.

They were all present in the room - Misty, Brock, Pikachu, May, Max, Hikari, Samuel Oak and Delia. Misty was seated in a chair close to the bed, her hand resting on the forehead of the person in it, her fiery hair let loose, bouncing limply against her cheeks, chin and neck, her blue-green eyes sparkling with tears. Brock leant against a wall, refusing to talk or look anyone directly in the eyes, looking toughly miserable. Pikachu was curled up on the bed, not asleep but looking very depressed. May, Max and Hikari were all sitting on stiff, uncomfortable looking armchairs against the wall, facing the bed. May's face was streaked with tears; it was apparent that she was afraid she would burst into tears if she spoke. Max was sprawled awkwardly in his chair, asleep; mouth wide open, looking mildly distressed. Hikari's eyes were blank and empty, her back unnaturally straight; but her tear-streaked cheeks and shining eyes betrayed her true feelings. Samuel dithered by the bed.

But Delia was staring wide-eyed and speechless at the bed and the person in it.

There was a long silence. Then Hikari spoke in that voice, the voice that showed she was determined not to reveal any emotion, that horribly bland voice that made her sound far older that she was. She said slowly and flatly, "It was my fault."

Brock jerked his head up at this as if astonished and studied her, but said nothing.

"Your fault?" inquired Samuel gently.

"Yes. My fault," said Hikari bleakly.

They all waited for her to keep talking.

But Delia whispered in horror, "Ash..." and took a step towards the bed.

Misty stroked some messy dark hair off the sleeping person's face.

Still they waited for Hikari.

Brock commented softly, "It was nobody's fault, Hikari. You couldn't have done anything. No one could."

"I could have saved him," replied Hikari, then her hard, detached expression crumpled and she sobbed into her hands. "I could have saved him. I should have..."

May patted the younger girl on the shoulder and said bravely, because she was afraid her own voice would crack and she would also burst into tears, "It wasn't your fault."

Hikari looked up, averting everybody's eyes, and said through her tears, "It was my fault. It was. I could have saved him but I didn't."

Everybody was silent. Max mumbled something in his sleep.

Delia took another step towards the bed. Her eyes met Misty's and they stared at each other for a moment. Brown eyes looked into the green ones. Both were full of grief and love for the person in the bed.

Hikari took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. "I remember all that blue, everywhere, surrounding me, suffocating me." May stroked her hair comfortingly. "Going into my mouth and my eyes and my nose and my ears and everywhere, nothing but blue. Dark blue. So dark, I couldn't see anything else..." She broke off with a hiccough followed by a loud sob. Sniffling, she continued, "And cold. The cold was going into me as well and making me numb. That's all I remember; blue, and cold. And not being able to breathe, and feeling like I was going to die."

"I managed to save Hikari," said Brock, taking over the story. "But I couldn't save Ash. We couldn't find him. When we got him out...well, it's a miracle he isn't dead already. I don't know how long it was before we found him."

"What exactly happened?" prompted Samuel. "Of course, not if you don't want to talk about it," he added hastily. "I understand..."

"We were at a river," said Hikari. "Having lunch. And Ash pushed me in, fully clothed. It was a joke, but the water started carrying me downstream."

"And naturally Ash jumped in after you, realising the danger you were in," said May. "It's the kind of crazy thing he would do. Obviously didn't figure out he wouldn't be much use to you if he was drowning too."

Misty looked down at Ash lying in the Pokémon Centre bed, almost drowned, machines attached to him frighteningly. She stroked his hair once more and stood up. She smiled sadly at Delia.

"Of course he didn't," said Brock. "He didn't think about his own safety, just about Hikari's. That's the sort of person he is. Unselfish."

"He _is_ selfish!" said Hikari angrily. "If he was unselfish, he would have realised what this would do to everyone."

"Who's everyone?" asked Samuel, raising an eyebrow.

"Brock, Misty, Pikachu, May and Max and me, of course. Who else?" replied Hikari.

"What about Delia?"

Hikari snorted. "You think she cares what happens to Ash? He only sees her once a year. If she really cared about him she'd put more into raising him, she'd have gotten here quicker, she would be there every time he needed her. Trust me, she's nothing to him."

The words hurt Delia more than anything she had ever heard. Misty brushed past her to join in the conversation. She stared down at her son. "Put them right, Ash," she whispered, and sat down beside him, stroking his hair. "You care about me, don't you?"

"Delia aside," said Brock impatiently, "once he jumped in after her, they started heading for a waterfall."

"How very cliché," said Misty sardonically.

"Don't say that," said Hikari.

"It's true."

"And I couldn't grab onto them," interrupted Brock. "They fell down the waterfall."

"My god, it's a soap opera," said Misty sourly.

"Shut up!" cried Hikari, jumping to her feet. "You insensitive little -"

"Little?" Misty stood up as well, proving herself to be well over a head taller than Hikari. Hikari was not fazed and yelled,

"You don't care about Ash! What, do you think this is funny? You think it's a joke? You think this whole thing was a hilarious joke?" Misty didn't even attempt to reply, she just regarded Hikari coolly as she fumed, "No? Well it sure seems like it! No! Don't say anything!"

Misty had not even tried to open her mouth. She was considering Hikari with wry amusement.

Delia gazed down at her son, with the medical machines surrounding him, and a machine bleeping infrequently beside him. His eyes were closed and he was deathly pale. In fact he seemed paper-white against his messy, jet-black hair. She put a hand on his forehead and stroked the limp, damp hair from his face. Tears stung her eyes. "Please, Ash," she murmured. "Tell them they're wrong. Tell them you love me."

"Do you care at all?" shouted Hikari. "Do you care about him?! Because right now I'm finding that hard to believe!"

Nurse Joy poked her head through the door. "Keep it down in here," she hissed. "Do you know what time it is? People are trying to sleep!" She retreated again.

Hikari stared at Misty. There was a long silence and then Misty said, "Do you think I'm happy about this? I've known Ash longer than any of you - except Delia, of course -"

"Yeah, Delia. World's worst mother." said Hikari contemptuously.

"Except for Delia," continued Misty serenely. "Of course I'm not happy. I'm mortified. I just find this whole thing slightly ironic. There seem to be a lot of waterfalls out there, doesn't there?"

Hikari had nothing to say to that. She glared at Misty and then flung herself down on one of the chairs.

Unfortunately, that chair already had Max in it.

He awoke with a yelp. "Whowherewhenwha...?!" he said hastily. Both Hikari and Max looked embarrassed. Hikari stood up hurriedly. Max adjusted his glasses and yawned. "Wha'd I miss? Oh - hi, Ms Ketchum."

The tears spilled down Delia's cheeks. The machine bleeped less and less frequently. Ash was as limp as a rag doll.

----------

"Everyone out," said Joy importantly, coming into the room to bustle around the bed doing medical things. She checked Ash's pulse as everybody reluctantly departed the room. "Not good," she muttered to herself, watching the machine bleep. 

Delia heard this last utterance before the door closed. She gulped down a sob but couldn't stop a tear from dropping off her cheek and landing with a splash on the soft magenta carpet. Everybody was silent. Hikari eyed Delia appraisingly. Then, she said slowly, "I'm sorry, Delia. I didn't mean it."

"That's all right, dear," said Delia sadly. "You were right, any way. They all leave one day. He just...left a little earlier than most."

Hikari didn't know whether she was talking about five years ago or five minutes from then.

Because five minutes from then the bleeps of the machine penetrated the walls.

"Blip...blip...blipblipblip...bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep..."

It was a terrible sound. A never-ending humming noise that told them everything they needed to know. Then suddenly it cut off and Delia knew it was over.

The door opened and Nurse Joy came out, her face grave. "I did everything I could," she said apologetically.

May, Max and Hikari burst into tears. Brock swayed slightly in shock. Misty and Delia caught each other's eye. Delia put a comforting arm around Misty, who started to sob into her shoulder. Pikachu nuzzled into May's feet as if saying, 'It isn't true, is it? Tell me it's not true...'. Samuel Oak stared at Joy, mouth slightly open, absolutely sure she was playing some kind of practical joke on them all.

Joy shook her head sadly. "What a loss," she murmured. "They say the good die young…"

---------

Gary stared down into the coffin. That wasn't Ash, was it? It couldn't be Ash. Ash's hair was messy and chaotic. This person's hair was neatly trimmed and sleek looking. This person's features were too sad and calm to be Ash's - Ash was always looking confident and happy and excited, and cocky, always laughing. It was if somebody had taken his features and replaced them with somebody else's.

Gary looked questioningly at Delia. "What's the big idea?" he demanded. "That isn't Ash!"

"I'm sorry, darling," said Delia quietly. "It's hard to accept the truth, isn't it?"

Gary's temper rose. "Look, this isn't Ash, okay? Any second the real Ash will come in here and ask who's that in the box! That isn't Ash!"

"Gary..." Misty put a hand on his shoulder. "That is Ash, Gary."

"No it isn't!" shouted Gary wildly, pushing her off. "Look, the real Ash had different hair, like this..." He messed up the person's hair and tried to make it look right. It fell limply back to the straight, combed hairstyle it had been in before.

"Gary!" said Richie in shock, grabbing his wrist and forcing it out of the coffin.

Gary looked from face to sombre face pleadingly. "That can't be Ash, though," he said quietly. "Ash didn't look like that..."

May cried.

Delia put an arm around her and smiled sadly at Gary. "It's my son, dear," she said. "I'm afraid it's true."

"It was all my fault," said Hikari softly. "He jumped in after me."

"Believe me, Hikari. For the last time - it wasn't your fault," said Brock sharply. "It was no one's fault."

"He was down at the bottom of the waterfall," she said as if nobody had spoken. "Just lying there, letting the water pound on him..."

"Don't talk about it, Hikari," said Samuel comfortingly.

"There was blood in the water," choked Hikari. "He was so deep down, in all that blue, with the waterfall pushing him down...and it was so long before we got him out...he never stood a chance."

Everybody was silent as the coffin was pushed closed.

Delia never forgot that day in the cemetery, staring down at her son's serene face for the last time, remembering the ten years she had known him, and the five years he had turned into somebody else. She had never said goodbye. When was the last time she had told him she loved him? Hikari was right.

For the rest of her life after that, Delia visited that one grave in the cemetery and remembered.


End file.
